


The Sense of I

by flinchflower



Series: Slash Me Twice [25]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Collars, M/M, Mentors, Multi, Strapping, Tessera, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-07
Updated: 2011-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-25 19:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 25: I.  Sam’s strong sense of self helps others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sense of I

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only. Follows in series from previous prompts, but stands alone if preferred.

The hours pass easily, John’s more tired than he thought, and he enjoys just being in the room with his family relaxing – doesn’t get this, not this soon after downtime, usually. He’s been dozing in an easy chair for a while when Tess taps on the door, and she’s frowning when John lets her in. Dean wanders out of the bedroom rubbing his eyes, and Sam looks like he was sleeping too, trailing behind his brother.

“Sam? May I borrow you?”

He gives her a smile. “Sure. What do you need?” He stands up, stretching a little, and John’s glad the manners he trained into his boy are still so evident. Tess is still frowning, and he’s a little concerned, it’s not like her.

“Sam, there’s a young sub… I just had her dom arrested out of the club, she’ll be staying with me for a while. I was hoping you’d talk to her,” Tess says, and waits.

Sam looks a little baffled. “I… sure, Tess – I don’t know how I’ll help, but sure.”

“Good. Get a collar out for me, please.” Tess sees Dean sit up out of the corner of her eye, frowning a little. Sam turns bright red, mumbles what sounds like “yes’m”, and heads for the bedroom, carefully avoiding his father as he goes. John sighs, and Dean goes a little red as well.

“Dean, it’s not like I don’t know.” He rises. “I’m going to make that nap official, I think.” Tess nods, and Dean relaxes a little, studying her. Sam comes out holding both of his collars – one’s his, the other’s a dressy thing that Sam wears when they’re out but he’s not subbing. His steps are tentative, and Dean’s got an idea of what he’s unsure about, especially when the boy’s eyes dart from him to Tess and back, and his hand tightens around the leather he’s gripping.

“Tess, should I go with you?” Dean’s got to ask, even though he knows the answer. He knows why she wants Sam on his own. Despite the fact that they have a dom/sub relationship, Sam has never lost his sense of self, his sense of being an individual person with needs and desires, and he’s never hesitated to use his safeword if they’re uncomfortable. He’ll be able to talk to someone who’s young and scared, with his earnest eyes.

“Not right now, Dean. If she responds to Sam, then yes.”

Before he can form a reply, Sam snorts. “Something for you, Sam?” Sam simply rolls his eyes skyward, and whistles the opening bars to “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Damn it. Dean appreciates Sam’s confidence, but sometimes, he gets cocky. Dean looks coolly at Tess.

“Is this an emergency? No? I’d like to be clear, Tess,” he says, standing up and looking her straight in the eye. “You want him in a collar – you want him in it as my sub, on his own, or are you asking to collar him yourself.” Dean sees Sam pale. They haven’t discussed him subbing for anyone else, and it’s probably that concept that’s got him worried, though he should know better. Dean wouldn’t do that to him unless they’ve talked it out, though he realizes that Sam probably thinks it’s a rational next step, since Dean’s allowed her to discipline him before.

“I’d prefer you to collar him, Dean, especially since you’ve offered to help if she’s comfortable with him.”

“Thank you,” he says formally, and turns to Sam, and holds out his hand. “Collar,” he demands in his best no-nonsense tone, and the boy hands over his proper collar. He snaps his fingers, and Sam’s kneeling, bowing his head forward enough that Dean can see what he’s doing. He’s still holding the dress collar. Once the plain leather is buckled, he takes Sam’s chin, makes him look up.

“Your safeword,” he says, glancing at Tess, who nods.

“Vereor.” _I fear._ The Latin echoes through both of their heads. It’s a reminder to be careful, for both of them. Dean’s pretty sure that Tess understands what it means, why they chose it.

“Rules.”

“I don’t speak unless I’m spoken to or asked a direct question. I obey you, or accept my punishment.”

The I’s echo in Dean’s mind – he’s never made his sub, his Sam, refer to himself in the third person like he’s seen others do. Tess is right, Sam will be able to help whoever this girl is, if she’ll listen. He’s quiet for a moment. “Go get the leather bag, Sam, and the white scrubs.”

“Yessir.” Sam turns quietly – everything about him becomes quiet, when he’s collared, the curtains hiding his vulnerability drawn wide open. Sam knows he’s vulnerable, knows it as part of his sense of self. It’s why Tess is asking him to do this. Tess raises an eyebrow at Dean.

“If you’re not in a hurry…”

“No. Do you need me to step out?”

“Oh, no, thank you.” He accepted the leather bag from Sam, buckles on the boy’s cuffs. Excellent. “Choose a strap out of the bag, Sam. One of the light ones.” Sam looks puzzled, but obediently hands over a pale tan strap. Dean pulls out one of the kitchen chairs, takes a seat, points at his lap. “Over.” Sam looks shocked – Dean never spanks him unless he’s put up a fuss about the collar, which he hasn’t – but he walks reluctantly toward his brother. Well. Points for obedience, at least. “Tell me what’s wrong, Sam.”

Sam clears his throat. “I don’t understand…”

“Why am I going to take a strap to your sorry little behind?” Sam blinks, and nods. “Maybe you should have thought about the possibility when you got all cute with the whistling while holding your collar in your fool hand?”

Sam’s face goes bright red, and he gingerly leans over Dean’s lap without any further hesitation. Dean’s pretty satisfied, but the brief strapping is even more satisfactory than the lack of argument. Sam’s squirming quickly, and Dean’s thinking he’d really like to try the wet-bottom thing out on Sam, though now isn’t the time. He lays down two dozen swats with the little strap in quick succession, and lets Sam up. Sam fidgets a little, but Dean hadn’t really strapped him hard, so there aren’t any tears, though he’ll feel the burn when he tries to sit. It will also be a good reminder to keep his temper, while he speaks to someone who’s likely bruised or injured. He helps the boy into the white scrubs, admiring his bottom glowing through the thin fabric. Tess smiles at the sight as well. Then he digs in the leather bag again. Sam panics a little, so he tells the boy to sit.

He comes up with a little box Sam hasn’t seen opened yet, something he had made especially for the boy after their last stay here at the club. He pulls out the small clips with the small loops of leather strap attached to them, and hands one to Sam. Sam looks at it, and understanding floods him. The leather is engraved, both sides, with the words “concessus loquo.” _Permission to speak._ Something about the little tab is comforting, and Dean takes it, clips it and it’s mate onto each of his wrist cuffs. There are too many times when Dean needs Sam to be able to talk, and Sam is frequently nervous about doing so, even when Dean’s told him he has permission. This is his solution. When the clips are fastened on, he looks at his brother.

“Thank you.” He wants to hug him, but they say permission to speak, not free for all on them.

Dean nods. “Tess has the ability to take them off, Sam. You behave, now.”

“Yessir.” Sam’s look turns pleading, and Dean handss him up out of the chair, and pulls him in, holds him tight. He listens to the boy breathe, waits until he relaxes, and knows himself again. He’s starting to release the boy, when Sam clings a little tighter. “Can we play later,” he whispers, and Dean grins.

“We’ll see. Go on.”

Sam gives him a shy smile and turns to Tess. She hesitates, Dean nearly misses it. “Sam. You haven’t been in this part of the club before. Come here.” He walks up to her, giving her his curious look, head tilted to the side, and then his eyes widen as she pulls a leather leash out of her pocket. She gives him a stern look. “You’re to be with me at all times, though I’ll give you a little privacy with the young one.”

He nods and goes to his knees, looking up at her while she clips the leash on. Dean’s satisfied, watching. Sam will never lose himself in this game. Tess nods, and gives Dean a smile before she leads him off to see if he can instill some confidence into a frightened child, help her find a sense of self.


End file.
